


Employee of the Month

by bossladyharley, oxforddrama



Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Borderlands: Borderlands 2, Don't copy to another site, Don't repost, F/M, Handsome Jack (Borderlands) Being an Asshole, Sex, Star Wars References, Уточнять у автора
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 03:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17480513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossladyharley/pseuds/bossladyharley, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxforddrama/pseuds/oxforddrama
Summary: Cassie's Mandalorian clan is employed by Handsome Jack to conduct his rotten commands throughout Pandora - under the guise of protection, food and Eridium. The clan gets more than they bargain for under his employment, however, and what once was a simple contract becomes a deed for murder.





	Employee of the Month

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themusicofmysoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themusicofmysoul/gifts).



> (This is a Christmas present that @bossladyharley and I worked on together for @themusicofmysoul. It is a one-shot of her Mandalorian insert on Pandora. Also, please forgive us if the Mando'a is rough as we're reliant on online resources.)

Cassie continued panting well after the hidden door closed over her head, shutting off all light.  Loose dirt and sand fell from the seams of the door and her _beskar’gam_ , the gritty sounds fading as quickly as they came. Cassie braced herself with a shaky hand against the wall, nerves still screaming for her to run. Though she’d made her way across the Arid Badlands in a hurry, her heavy breathing wasn’t due to physical exhaustion. She was used to the weight of her _beskar'gam_ , even though Handsome Jack kept it under lock and key more often than not.

The thought of the _demagolka_ caused her breathing to sharpen, turning ragged with _a’den_ and despair. She balled her free hand into a fist and slammed it into the wall, gloves impacting metal, and took several deep inhales as she listened to the blood pounding in her ears. Her heart’s frantic beat was a hummingbird’s wings fluttering against the bars of a cage, and she had to remind herself that she was safe.

She was alone. Handsome Jack would not find her here. No one from her clan would have shared the location of _this_ safehouse with him. Not their home away from home on Pandora.

After calming somewhat, Cassie made her way down the stairs, her boots making quick metallic clangs as her sure steps carried her further into the dark. She knew this underground safe house almost as well as she knew her way around a jetpack and sniper rifle. The same sniper rifle strapped to her back, now short a round.

As soon as she made her way into one of the inner rooms, she unslung the rifle and tossed it away from her in disgust.

The sight of a prone-formed figure flashed in her mind’s eye, and Cassie came to an abrupt halt. She shut her eyes, focusing on the dark behind her eyelids, and took in a jagged breath. Only when she thought she wouldn’t crumble like a sandcastle at high tide did she enter the centermost room of her hideaway.  

A few seconds after she crossed the threshold, the sole light in the room clicked dimly on, the motion sensor delayed. Cassie’s lips trembled as she smiled, fighting back tears, as all the memories of her family’s shared grumblings over the outdated tech reached her at the sight, but those good feelings fled as something in her chest ached.

It was like being stabbed in the heart and feeling the knife twist. She had no right to any semblance of happiness, not after what she had just done.

The fact that she was tricked wasn’t enough of an excuse.

Her emotions were ricocheting all over the place, and the room felt hotter than it should have, despite being underground. To distract herself, Cassie turned slowly, inspecting the room. The orange ember of light in the corner didn’t illuminate the whole rectangular space. The majority of the room was still cast in blue tints and deep shadows. A layer of dust and sand was over everything, save from where her footsteps had disturbed it. No one had visited in a while, and now, nobody ever would.

A stab of panic and fear entered her chest. To ward them off, she reached for the familiar anger, but it was less fulfilling than it normally was. Disquieted, Cassie crossed to where spare weapons and ammo rested against one of the walls, along with a few steel crates. Most of them sat empty, their lids off and their insides gutted, but one still had its lid intact. Cassie knew without looking inside what it was: rations of food they hadn’t had a chance to break into before the contracted mission for Hyperion.

Before everything had gone so wrong.

Cassie sat heavily on top of it and removed her helmet, her hair falling onto her shoulder in a messy braid, the strands now her natural brown from where the red dye had long since faded. (She would’ve found boxes of the dye in one of these crates, mass-ordered as a joke from her sister, but she snapped the door closed on that thought as soon as it formed.)

Instead, Cassie stared at the T-shaped visor of her helmet, the blue trim as familiar to her as breathing. Blue was the color of reliability. Never before now had she felt such despair at the sight of it.

“I don’t even have the right,” she said bitterly into the darkness, “to wear this anymore.”

The point was driven home as her gaze shifted, catching on the _Kyr'bes_ on her chest plate. The symbol of her people, now desecrated with the scratches of a despotic madman, the lines of the skull having been chipped away like the dregs of Handsome Jack’s sanity.

How beneath that—in a hasty, crude application—the Hyperion logo rested, a symbol to all that the _beskar'gam_ and the Mandalorian who wore it belonged to the company, to Handsome Jack.

A sign to everyone who saw it that she was a traitor. Worse, a _dar’manda_. And the armor she had cared for with such pride... Now, with that disgusting logo on it, she could barely stand the sight of her armor after what she’d done today.

And this room was so fucking _hot_. She was suffocating.

Chest heaving, Cassie flung her helmet aside, her fingers moving quickly to remove the armor piece by piece, casting it away from her in revulsion. _Verd ori'shya beskar'gam_ , she tried to remind herself _._ It was true: warriors were more than their armor, and for months, she had been telling herself that. For months as she’d gotten close to Handsome Jack without relying on it, putting up with him and carrying out his abhorrent orders, that belief had been true. She told herself she could take any humiliation, any degradation. As long as all this ended with her knife in his back and her clan avenged, it would be worth it.

All of that had changed just a few short hours ago, and now Cassie no longer believed. If her clan had still been alive, she wouldn’t be able to look any of them in the eyes after what she’d done. How could she call herself Mandalorian after this? Her eyes stung, and she frantically blinked the tears back. She didn’t know. But somehow, she had to find a new way to lie to herself, to try.

But first, she had to calm down and collect herself. She was still no closer to being able to face Handsome Jack than she had been after completing her mission, and she would have to be. If she wasn’t, it would be obvious. If she wasn’t, he would kill her.

Because she would try to kill him. If she saw his face right now, one of them would die.

Her hands stilled as she went to remove her lower body armor, fingers brushing against familiar leather: her sister’s _kama_ . A tense silence passed, Cassie indecisive. Then, with gentle hands, she untied the garment and set it beside her on the crate, every movement reverent. That was still her reason. _Suriya_ was still her reason. The fury in her veins chilled, and her resolve turned to steel again. It didn’t matter what she did or who she became in the process, didn’t matter if she was _dar’manda_ . Avenging her _aliit_ — her _vod_ and _buir_ — was all that mattered. _Aliit ori’shya tal’din_ , and it was as true as it had ever been.

Cassie would pay for her sins later. Revenge came first.

With deliberation, Cassie divested herself of the rest of her _beskar'gam_ and weapons, including the knife holstered at her hip _._ Standing in her under armor — not even _hers_ , but the reviled bits of Hyperion-manufactured blue cloth Handsome Jack forced her to wear as a mockery of her people—Cassie fished out the small, cubed vault she’d hidden in a small travel pouch. Her expression darkened as she caught sight of one of the cube’s points, which was stained with rust-colored blood.

Everything that had happened today—all the anger coursing in her veins, the turmoil rioting in her mind, and the blood staining her hands—it was all because of this.

* * *

Amidst the desolation of Pandora, the weapons manufacturing plant Hyperion still stood out like a smudge of oil on a clean canvas. It was somehow dirtier than the dust and decay that filled every corner not occupied by ragged settlements of salvaged metals and rotted beams. Smog puffed out of Hyperion like a toxic cumulonimbus cloud—thick and grey. Each puff of smoke permeated the air, bending and twisting the few healthy molecules left in the strangled world. It matched the décor, at least.

Cassie watched from behind the fenced boundary of the weapons plant, staring up at the looming dusk’s moon behind. She felt her nose twinge at the sight of it hanging in the sky and grimaced. It tickled and irritated to the point of a burn all the way to her mouth where it sat like a muddy reminder of where she was. Elpis didn’t deserve such a monster, and neither did Pandora—even on its worst days.

The collar of her _kute_ pushed against her throat, the pressure cinching her esophagus just enough to remind her why she felt so sick. For a moment Cassie thought she might run out of air. She ran her hand up to her collar and tried to release the tension. Her fingers grazed over what remained of the Mandalorian _aliik_. She let her hand drop as her back teeth dug into the sides of her tongue until she could barely feel the inside of her mouth. The only thing she owed her temporary “boss” was a motivation for her grit.

“Fucking bastard,” Cassie spat.

Handsome Jack loved tricks and games; while the Mandalorians had desperately signed their contract with the Hyperion president, he had been waving a hand behind his back. Jack wasn’t a very good magician, but he knew better than anyone how to hide his true intentions in his words. He used what little charisma he possessed and the power he had over one of the biggest monopolies in Pandora (weapons manufacturing) to lure people to him. He offered what few could: refuge and a means to _cuyanir_.

When his contract included complete control over her clan’s armor and equipment, the Mandalorians realized what a mistake they had made. He stripped them of their protection for his own. Took away their armor, their second skin, and left them exposed. As each mission trudged on, risking their lives for his needs, Cassie’s clan felt more at odds with their employment, and hers wasn’t the only one. She remembered the other _Mando’ada_ who had been fooled, how they whispered in the dark ways to escape and take down Hyperion before returning to Mandalore. A few bad missions were one thing; rebranding their people into Hyperion crones was another.

Once, a small group of Mandalorian rogues stowed away to Elpis and tried to assassinate Handsome Jack after a long day’s mission. They were caught immediately. Jack returned the favor by killing them all and making a grand appearance at Hyperion in person rather than digitally. His entrance sent a shockwave through Hyperion and the remaining Mandalorians. All Cassie could do was watch. Bile had risen in her throat along with the first dregs of vengeance as the atrocity took place. Suriya’s hand had grabbed her by the arm, the contact being the only thing that had held the both of them back.

Then, she, her sister, and the rest of the Mandalorians at Hyperion were restrained and forced to watch Handsome Jack destroy their insignia on each plate of armor and under armor with nothing more than a blunt object and petulant rage.

“I’m the master here, and _I_ won’t be taken advantage of again!”

There were disparate feelings amongst the remainder of her people after that. Some believed the rogues were selfish and did more harm than good. Others, Cassie included, tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t blame her _adate_ for their hubris, but she wished they had been more calculated in their methods—perhaps even clued her in. It was imperative around _him_.

The halls remained quiet after Handsome Jack revealed himself. Through _dadita_ , the Mandalorians hoped to one day fulfill the death of the slaver who took their family crest and freedom from them, or there would be no returning to their home planet for any of them. Their _ijaat_ wouldn’t allow it. They had to be patient.

But, as Cassie could now attest, none of them had been patient enough. Somehow, Handsome Jack had outlasted and outwitted all of them, except for her.

A small wind kicked up and spat sand in Cassie’s face. She waved it away and frowned. The chill in the air told her it was time to check back in. The low guttural sound of a nearby scavenging skag urged Cassie to quicken her pace, the entrance not far from where she lurked.

When their employment had began, Handsome Jack had moved her clan to a holding facility within Hyperion—for obvious reasons not trusting them on his geostation. The facility let in little natural lighting, but had all the bare amenities. The outside was tall and metal; the inside was lit up with fluorescent whites and blues to brighten up what may have previously been a storehouse. At least, that was what Cassie suspected. The rooms were not unlike enclosed cells, though Handsome Jacked called them their “sanctuaries.”

It wasn’t _yaim_ , but nothing really was here.  

In the beginning, the Mandalorians on Pandora had been as desperate as anyone else hiding in the badlands: searching for artifacts, weaponry, and jobs just to keep food and tokens and Eridium flowing. Desires and needs tempted them all, but Cassie’s people had worked hard to maintain their _Resol’nare_. They already survived in a world devoid of any god or hope. Their adherence to a native dogmatic lifestyle was all some of them had left to cling to.

The door shut behind Cassie with a seal that felt both safe and imprisoning. She counted down each tenant silently in her head as she readied herself to sleep. It was one of the few routines that kept her centered, knowing Jack may have bugged every room in Hyperion.

 _Solus: beskar’gam_.

Cassie pulled each piece of her clothing off her _baar_ —that which Jack allowed for her to wear beyond his armory. The chilled air in her tight quarters sent a shockwave through her senses, clinging to every ounce of humidity stuck to her skin from her mission outside, as the layers peeled from her body limp and damp.

The kama fell to the floor with a rough _thud_ , catching Cassie’s attention. Stains of blood tainted the grey leather. Harsh accents of a familiar Mando’a blue colored the trim. There were tears on the edges, frays at the trim and hem. The blood wasn’t Cassie’s or of her own doing. Her mind swirled at the sight of it. She wondered what color Handsome Jack’s blood might be.

_T’ad: joha._

She did her best to _jorhaa’ir Mando’a_ whenever possible, only resolving herself to the common tongue when forced to directly speak with outsiders. “ _Val'll draar hiibir ner akaanir_ ,” she whispered to herself as she kicked off her shoes.

_Ehn: aliit._

Cassie cared for her clan, her family, before anyone else. Beyond her clan, Cassie’s _traat’aliit_ was somewhere safe on Mandalore along with the rest of her people, and for that, she was nothing but grateful because her current location was nothing but hell. Pandora civilians varied between bandits and robotic innocents with few in-between. Even the good-hearted were weaponized and desperate. Every night, she prayed no more of her people came to this place. Each mission Handsome Jack sent one of them on was another chance to die. _Aliit ori'shya tal'din._

Cassie sat on the edge of her cot and held her face in her hands. She had always worried when _Mando’ade_ didn’t return from a mission. Their numbers were anemic, and after Jack’s machinations, she finally believed she was the only one left working for Hyperion now. Possibly, she was the last Mandalorian still on Pandora. Even idle pacing of the halls proved very little life outside of other Hyperion workers and guards.

 _Cuir: ba’jurir_.

Cassie knew her people valued nurturing _Mando’ade_ to be strong Mandalorians. It was a tenet she abided, but not one she practiced willingly. It wasn’t as if breeding to spitefully survive this harsh life was in her clan’s best interest now that they were all gone, unable to escape slimy clauses in backhanded _koor_ and a merciless employer. She breathed heavily.

 _Rayshe’a: borarir_.

In order to survive as a family, they had to contribute to their success. Cassie’s only motivations stayed with her _aliit_ , even now. She laid back on her cot and stretched her legs out. The firmness of the pseudo-mattress beneath did _something_ to soothe her bones, but it wasn’t much. Cassie craved a night’s sleep on even the dusty grounds of the badlands, but she dreamed of the day she could have the amenities so many still maintained when not held prisoner by a terroristic tycoon.

_Resol: mandokar, mandokarla._

_Mando’ada_ believed a tenacity for life and a willingness to fight for what is right were what made them so uniquely Mandalorian. Cassie lifted her hands and examined scars, freckles, and calluses. Stories of battles fought rested in the cracks and lines of her skin. She knew she had the will and strength to see this through to the end: to end Handsome Jack, Hyperion, and make Pandora somehow safer for her people to return to. But she didn’t know how.

“ _Pehea liser Ni parjir?_ ” Cassie asked aloud. Her voice reverberated off the walls—a casing of what felt like aluminum but was hardly that weak.

She fell asleep with no answer.

***

Cassie woke the next morning to the grating sounds of a familiarly peppy voice and her right arm numb from resting near her head all night. The robotic alarm spoke to her in a jarring volume: “Time to get up and start your day! Hyperion needs you! Pandora needs you!”

It was the same every morning. She assumed it was either a modified recording of Handsome Jack’s voice, or it was some poor robot under his command. Either prospect sounded awful.

The mornings never came on their own, slow and steady. There was always a lights-out, lights-on policy at Hyperion that made it hard to feel rested or motivated. Perhaps that was Handsome Jack’s goal: If he doesn’t kill you first, the exhaustion and slow churn of insanity will.

Cassie felt something sticking in her throat; she sat up and coughed. She was dehydrated. The only water came from a small, constantly-dripping faucet in the cramped lavatory she was granted. She poured some water into a glass and drank as if she had never been so satisfied.   

Her body was a pot of simmering _shig_ slowly churning. Heat rose the water level steadily with each day Cassie woke in her cell. She felt her stomach bubble—small simmering waves folding over, brewing more disdain and hatred. She wished to stamp out the flame, to remove the pot, to let it cool and settle. Still it climbed, hotter and hotter, until one morning she would wake to it in her throat, drowning her before she could strangle Jack with her own bare hands.

With no armor or weaponry to soothe Cassie’s body, the Mandalorian walked out of her cell to head towards their “cafeteria” to eat a small, bland breakfast. She made eye contact with a male Twi’lek, pulling themselves from a dark hall as if they had been kept up all night. He looked older than he likely was with paling blue skin. Cassie didn’t recognize him, and she worried he may have been a spy sent by Handsome Jack in the way he eyed her cautiously. She waved to him and attempted a smile. The Twi’lek didn’t return the favor.

The cafeteria was small with a few sets of tables and chairs. Towards the back was a boxed window to pick up food. Hyperion employees never saw the one who served them, but Cassie knew they weren’t Mandalorian. Cassie took her tray to a nearby seat and ate silently. She wished for spices or weak Pandora sauces to add flavor to the dish, but the most she got were shakers of salt. Cassie tried to imagine her plate overflowing with _tiingilar_ , but each bite brought her back to her devastating reality.

Each day was the same: canned skag meat and water. The motto was always “Have as much as you want!” but no one ever took Handsome Jack up on the offer. The cafeteria was half-full of drowsy Hyperion employees, but to Cassie, it might as well have been empty. A room was always less full after a Mando had left it, but how her people had left it… The hole they’d left behind was all the bigger for it.

She remembered her first meal in Hyperion. Then, her people had filled three tables, Cassie’s clan alone taking up half a table all by themselves. They always sat side-by-side and chatted to pass the time while grimacing at the gruel. As time went on, their Mando family huddled closer from three tables to two. The conversations dropped as the pressures of their contracts—divided on a clan or individual basis—built as family members disappeared.

One day the next table over began whispering, and Cassie’s table leaned in more to hear the conversation. Was it plotting? Had Handsome Jack done something else, something inexcusable they weren’t aware of? Was it time to bear arms? No, not quite. It was something else. Something distinctive but faint. It was _laaran_. Quiet, quiet singing. The adjacent table all knew the song and joined in chorus, snickering and singing softly as they ate their bland meal.

A few more beats and her table understood it, too. “ _Naasad'guur mhi—Mhi n'ulu,_ ” an old drinking song. Cassie smiled, warmth flowing to her cheeks.

A broad smile returning to her youthful face, Suriya had nudged Cassie and jumped in, her green lekku swinging behind her as she swayed to the tune in her seat. “— _Mhi n’ulu. Mhi Man_ —”.

Those at Cassie’s table looked to her. One man started laughing much louder than a snicker, causing the table next to them to grow in volume. It was contagious. The two tables laughed and finished out the chant loudly tossing bits of skag meat and water in the air as they did so, Cassie’s clear mezzo-soprano ringing clearly beside Suriya’s exuberant voice:

_Naasad'guur mhi,  
_ _Naasad'guur mhi,  
_ _Naasad'guur mhi,  
_ _Mhi n'ulu.  
_ _Mhi Mando'ade,  
_ _Kandosii'ade,  
_ _Teh Manda'yaim,  
_ _Mando'ade._

The remaining _Mando’ade_ smiled to each other, a glow of familial strength welding them together.

As quickly as it had come, the moment vanished. A screen hanging on the dark metal wall above them lit up to reveal Handsome Jack clapping and grinning all the way from Elpis. Cassie eyed the strange way his mask’s edges fit to his face so perfectly. She felt a chill down her spine. The two tables of Mandalorians stopped smiling and examined the screen with a spark of worry. Was this for a mission or something else? Bad news was often unpredictable when Jack wielded the knowledge.

“I’m happy to see my friends having such a good time on Hyperion,” he said with a smirk. Light from somewhere in the room caught the silver streak in his brown hair as he cocked his head thoughtfully. “I really thought for a bit we were going to have trouble with you folks, but you’ve proven to be just as helpful and heartwarming as I imagined nomads like yourselves to be.”

That was the day two more Mandalorians had gone missing by nightfall.

_No one likes us, we don’t care._

The song and the memory of everything that had been lost since coming to Pandora took up space in Cassie’s hollowed-out heart. At the table she sat at now, all the seats around her were empty. A small tear formed in the corner of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let it fall. She let her fork hit her tray, realizing she was gripping it much too hard for comfort. She so craved the sounds of singing and chanting from her family. She longed to hold her sister Suriya. To be free and work for herself. To drink and eat somewhere other than Pandora. To end her self-imposed exile and return to Mandalore an avenger.

As if on cue, Handsome Jack appeared on the screen and locked eyes with Cassie.

“Ah yes… Just who I was looking for,” he said. “ _Cassandra_.” His tongue twisted around every vowel and consonant of her name in a way that agonized her. “I’ve got a mission for you, if you’ve finished your meal,” he replied. “Head to the armory, and I can give you the full rundown there. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

As Cassie went to return her tray, the tasteless food in her stomach now like a lead weight, she felt that heavy stare again. She turned just in time to see the same male Twi’lek as before, sitting two tables down with his arms crossed on its surface and glaring a hole at where she stood. The second her gaze caught his, he looked away. The discontent in his eyes was clear, and his jaw worked silently, as if he were struggling to say something—or _not_ say something.

Cassie stood there, and this time she didn’t offer a friendly smile. She waited, refusing to back down, ready to take him on whether his statement was good or bad like the warrior she was. But the man said nothing. He uncrossed his arms and went back to picking at his food.

So off Cassie went to receive her report, only now her heart had dropped to somewhere near her stomach, oddly heavier than before.

***

 _Don’t gimme that look, cupcake. This’ll be_ fun.

Cassie grit her teeth as Handsome Jack’s “instructions” filtered through her mind while she got into position. The only way a mission on Trash Coast would be _fun_ is if she had _him_ in her crosshairs by the end of it. Instead, she had to keep a sharp eye out for spiderants while she waited for her target to make an appearance. Bearing this in mind, Cassie located high ground and settled in on her stomach, training her sniper rifle to point where it needed to be, directing the barrel toward the ground until she was ready to fire it.

All the while, she monitored her surroundings, her _buy’ce_ running schematics in the background, ready to alert her to hostiles at a moment’s notice. All it would take is one spiderant to burrow out from underground up to her position for this whole thing to go tits up.

The Mandalorian’s mouth twisted beneath her _buy’ce._ That sounded like something the _demagolka_ would say.

_I just don’t get it, sweetcheeks, do you? How many times do I have to say it?_

_“Take as much as you want”_ — Cassie held back a shiver as she remembered how low and growling Handsome Jack’s voice had become — “ _as long as you don’t take it from_ ME!”

Cassie took a deep breath, checking her scope in between surveying the land, or should she say, the glorious trash piles all around. In the distance, she could see murky green water coming from the sea in between all the filth. At least there was nothing scenic to distract her from her mark. Now, if only he would show up, and she could reclaim Handsome Jack’s missing vault and go—

Well, not _yaim_ , but back. She could go back and hope that the next time the _demagolka_ called upon her, it would present the opportunity she needed.

 _Don’t pretend with me, kitten. Killing sets fire to your blood as much as it does mine. I almost wish I could be there to see it, but_ — _business calls, you know? Maybe next time. But hey, that coast is positively crawling with filthy, thieving bandits, so do me a favor, sweetcheeks. After you pump lead in the traitor, pick a few of those insects off for me. You’re Employee of the Month material, I just know it._

How she couldn’t wait to kill him.

Something shifted in the distance. Cassie brought her right eye to the scope, her vision magnified by both visor and rifle as she scanned and scanned—and there he was. Sifting through the piles of trash as he walked toward her position, trying to look discreet, like he belonged there. Cassie would’ve believed he had, if it weren’t for Handsome Jack’s description: tall with broad shoulders, black jacket, dark gray pants, a white bandit mask covering his face. As he walked, something bobbed behind him. She tried to make it out, but after ensuring it wasn’t another person, she cast her concern away. It was likely a backpack or something similar, no doubt where he’d stashed the vault.

He was on time to boot, unaware that the informant he was supposed to meet here was in Handsome Jack’s pocket. Instead of handing the vault over to a rebel or bandit, he would be getting a bullet to the chest.

 _Who is he?_ she’d asked.

_What the fuck does that matter?_

Cassie disabled the safety and braced the butt of the rifle against her shoulder. There was already a bullet in the chamber, and the wind was negligible, the sun high and bright. She couldn’t ask for better conditions. The Mandalorian inhaled and exhaled three times as she always did, and in the three-second pause before her next breath, she locked onto her mark’s chest and squeezed the trigger.         

She stayed still long enough to feel the recoil against her armor and watch the body drop. Then, she took off, enabling the safety and strapping the rifle between her shoulder blades with expert finesse as she ran. It wouldn’t be long before every spiderant and bandit in the nearby vicinity would come running toward the sound of the gunshot. And knowing Handsome Jack, she was already on a tight schedule.

Her boots skidded on piles of trash—papers, cans, spare parts, food wrappers, even bits of rotted fruit and meat—as she maneuvered to solid ground. Cassie fervently wished she still had her jetpack, but Jack had relieved her of it a long time ago, for “experimentation” he’d said. She knew better than to think she’d ever see it in one piece again.

But her boots only made quiet, dense thuds as she found packed dirt, and it wasn’t long before she located the body.

She didn’t know why, but something about sniping someone always made their bodies look smaller, and this man was no exception. He’d landed on his back at an odd angle, favoring his right shoulder, his head oddly propped upright. His legs were bent slightly and tilted to the left as if he’d tried to curl in on himself before the end, like an insect after being sprayed with poison. The hole in his chest was the size of a tangerine, the blood making his black jacket appear shiny in the harsh overhead sun.

Cassie avoided stepping in the puddle of red that was slowly spreading under the body, ignoring the hot shame that flushed her from head to toe. This was not _ijaat_ . Carrying out hits for a psychopath was not _mandokarla_ , at least not for her. For _Kyr’tsad_ , maybe, but not her.

But it was done. The best thing she could do now was make her pilfering quick and do what she could to respect the body. He was a fallen rebel, after all.

The Mandalorian patted down the right side of the body before traveling up the left. “ _Pare_ ,” she muttered to herself, feeling a strange, unyielding something in the deep pocket of her mark’s cargo pants. Reaching in, she pulled out a small, metallic, foreign-looking cube, the Vault symbol of what appeared to be an upside-down V in a circle etched onto one side.

Here it was, Jack’s treasure.

Cassie shook her head in disgust, but as she moved to stow it away in her travel sack, the body’s head shifted. Nearly jumping a foot in the air, Cassie’s grip on the vault tightened, her other hand going for the knife strapped in a sheath at her side. The moment was tense, but a second later, Cassie realized the truth of things. The body hadn’t come alive to attack her. She’d disturbed it with her prodings, and gravity had done the rest, forcing the head to slide off of whatever had been propping it up. A nervous, sheepish laugh escaped her. The laugh died immediately upon spotting the lekku.

Her first thought was of Suriya. Her throat began to burn as she fought off the sudden wave of anguish that this imagery suddenly brought: the body folded over; the once-emotive lekku now lifeless as a doll; the blood— _there was so much blood_. If she let this dam break, she didn’t know what would happen, if she would cry, or vomit, or let a spiderant put her out of her misery.

But she was not the one who had killed Suriya, who had stood over her body and called her a worthless traitor.

That cold burst of rationality led her to her second thought. The lekku of her _vod_ had been green. These were a pale, ashen blue. Without further hesitation, Cassie lifted the Twi’lek’s bandit mask and met his disbelieving, frozen stare, a stare that had been glaring at her just this morning.

Handsome Jack had killed another of his employees, and he’d used his new favorite weapon, a Mandalorian warrior, to do it. Was that why this Twi’lek had looked at her the way he had, why he’d refused to return her smile? He had known the _skanah_ would eventually discover his treachery, and that she would be the one to kill him. By the surprise on his face, he obviously hadn’t expected to die today. Recalling when she’d last seen him alive, Cassie had sworn he was going to tell her something, but he’d reined himself in at the last second, and now she would never know what it was.

 _Who is he?_ she’d asked.

_What the fuck does that matter?_

It mattered. It mattered to her. And it would matter to his _aliit_ , if he had one.

Cassie unzipped his jacket, peeling the wet cloth from his body, and searched for identification—a Hyperion access card, a license, anything—not realizing what her sentiments had manifested into existence.

Her fingers hooked on something around his neck. She pulled the chain free, two dog tags jingling down the length of it, the silver stained with blood on one side.

The vault slid from Cassie’s hand as her entire body went numb. She barely registered the cube falling on one sharp edge, splashing into the blood before bouncing away. She was too focused on the dog tags, on what they revealed.

The first had the Mandalorian _aliik_ stamped in black on its surface.

The second, his name in rarely seen, beautifully written Mando’a: Anu Cadera.

Cassie’s breathing turned erratic and her thoughts raced. Why was he here? Where was the rest of his clan—on Mandalore? Why wasn’t he wearing his armor? Why was he hiding? Why hadn’t he said something to her? _Why hadn’t he trusted her?_

Jack.

Everything came down to Handsome Jack. He had known everything. Had known someone from Clan Cadera had come, that he would try to seek her out. That’s why he always addressed her directly in front of all the other Hyperion employees, why his company’s logo was on her _baskar’gam_ : to claim possession and sow distrust with anyone who could be her ally, especially other Mandalorians.

And he had sent her to kill him, knowing what he was. A fellow _Mando_ . Her people. Her _aliit_.

Cassie braced her hands on Anu’s bloodied chest, her entire body shaking. She couldn’t get control of her breathing. Her hands clenched and unclenched, but she couldn’t steel herself. Wet drops slid down her face like a leaky spigot, landing on the t-shape of her visor, blocking her vision.

As if the tears were the catalyst, that roiling pot of water Cassie always felt looming in her stomach now screamed and squealed inside of her. It was boiling over at last, the hot searing water pouring from her eyes and down her cheeks without any hint of stopping. She thought steam might burst out of her armor. An animal sound, low and keening, met her ears, and it took her far too long to realize it was coming from her mouth. The sound sputtered as her throat closed. She couldn’t get enough air, and her heart was going to break out of her chest. She was having a panic attack.

Just like last time.

Cassie looked at Anu’s face, but she saw Suriya’s.

“Hey! Fresh meat, boys!”

The bandit’s echoing call surged her into action, igniting her fight or flight response at last. Cassie only had enough mindfulness to snatch the vault and spring over Anu’s body as gunshots fired at her back. But no bandit or even spiderant could catch her now, not with the way she flew past, the whole world a screaming blur she was trying to escape from.

There was only one place she could go now, and it was far from Hyperion.

More importantly, far from Handsome Jack.

* * *

“ _Oritsir_.”

The weight of the cube betrayed her. Despite its cold, dense metal, it was light and compact. It hardly felt like a fair exchange for a life. The _haastal_ she spotted before was now smudged around the corners from the humidity of Cassie’s palms. She felt the same uncomfortable coating on the back of her neck and under her shirt. She had to know what was inside. She couldn’t bare herself. What was so worth Handsome Jack’s time that he’d be willing to test her like this? Cassie feared for the worst as she tried to find an opening to pry it apart and see.   
  
The Mandalorian bit into the side of her cheek as she focused her energy on the vaulted box. She knew there had to be an easier way into it, pausing only a moment to scan the room for something sharp. She spotted her knife by the pile of armor but disregarded it. Perhaps a more aggressive and destructive approach would get the job done. She probed her way around the crates, looking for ideas. It wasn’t as though Cassie owed Handsome Jack anything at this point. He could have whatever rubble remained of his precious treasure once she knew what the point of all of this was. But she didn’t spot any hammers or loaded guns anywhere, and she really didn’t feel like going back for her rifle.   
  
In a last ditch effort, Cassie tried again. The cuticles of her nails nearly frayed at the effort she took to try to rip it apart with her bare hands. She braced her fingertips on any groove or crack she could find. The muscles in her back tensed and groaned in pain. Cassie released a large sigh and stopped pulling. She felt out of breath and out of patience. A terrible feeling was still gnawing at her gut that told her she didn’t have the energy she needed to work around this.

For a moment, Cassie considered lying down. Not that she thought she could sleep, but it might have been better than this exhaustion.   
  
Something cold tickled Cassie’s throat, causing her spine to snap straight. The solid, sharp, and icy feeling followed her with the movement. Before she could turn to assess the sudden shift in the air, the blade gently pierced into her skin, setting itself into the grooves of her throat as a warning. [ A rough, strong hand gripped her free wrist. ](https://jennifergsheffield.files.wordpress.com/2019/01/oxforddrama-commission.png) The feeling of compression made it impossible to spread her fingers or pull her arm away. She gripped the cube with her other hand as tightly as she could, terrified of who might be behind her and what they might do to get it.   
  
“This seems unfortunate for you,” a voice said darkly in her ear. Cassie felt her pulse pound against her ears so loudly she thought she might faint from the sudden rush of blood. Jack.   
  
His voice wasn’t low and guttural like one might think for such an assertive ruler over Pandora; his bass was higher, but his tone was always deeply disturbed and charismatically smooth. Cassie hated every part of it.

His breath fell from her ear to her neck with each release of a word. His pulse seemed steady. He wasn’t the least bit moved by their closeness or fragile security. He had the upper-hand.   
  
Handsome Jack nonchalantly scanned the ceiling and the room, tilting his head to the side to stare upon the Mandalorian from just a peripheral view. She smelled of fear, anguish, and anger. It was intoxicating.   
  
“Look, I’m not one for subtlety,” Jack said, his voice sounding as if it had its own personified smirk. “Let’s cut to the chase here — you took off with my goods, and I’m only going to ask once for them back.”   
  
The cooled blade moved only a little against Cassie’s flesh. She tried not to swallow or breathe too heavily, but she still felt the smallest trickle of blood crawl down her throat. The trail left a   _mureyca_ all the way past her collar, resting somewhere by her breasts. She struggled to figure out an escape route. If Jack knew about their small underground hideout, what was to say he didn’t know more about Mandalorians than he’d let on this entire time? Cassie felt a flicker of panic rise in her chest as she considered he may even understand Mando’a.   
  
There was only one way to find out: “ _Ge'hutuun_ .” The word felt strained, but she said it with as much calm and sternness as she could muster. It was an insulting way to test someone, but Jack would have probably preferred it that way.   
  
The blade pressed against her skin more but didn’t move enough to cut any deeper. Jack pulled Cassie’s restrained hand behind her, bracing it against her back. Her back arched in response, pressing into his shoulder in a regrettable move she couldn’t unpin herself from easily.     
  
“I’m not the criminal,” he replied, his breath tickling her ear.   
  
_Shit_ .   
  
“Give me my loot, and I’ll get out of your hair.”   
  
Cassie tried to straighten her posture, but Jack’s grip was relentless. She lengthened her neck, moving it out from underneath the blade. She turned her head to Jack. He was close. Too close. Cassie saw pearls of bright blue and bright green staring back at her with a menacing grin. His breath hit her cheek, and she felt as though she might vomit.   
  
“Why should I believe anything you have to say?” Cassie spat.   
  
Handsome Jack was growing impatient; it was apparent in the way his eyes churned from the bright colors of a beautiful day to stormy skies and raging seas. Jack’s brow furrowed, darkening his glare even more.   
  
Cassie knew the word about her de-facto boss. He was on edge, unhinged, impatient. She’d watched him throw a fit. The sounds of scraping and cracking metal flooded back to her. It rang in her ears, scratched against her teeth and bones. The way Jack’s firm arms swung and railed against their _aliik_ still sat with her. It was the only time he’d shown his true self to their clan. Cassie imagined the metal as her bones. Could they clank, crack, and chip just like their proud symbol of Mandalore? Would she be able to withstand it?   
  
Jack removed the knife from Cassie’s throat, and she spun around. Her movement shocked him. He loosened his grip just long enough for the Mandalorian to break out and hit him in the side of the head with the cube. It stung, but it wasn’t nearly enough to cause harm.   
  
A small chuckle left Jack’s lips. “Ohh,” he groaned, holding the side of his head and humorously shaking it. “You really are something, sweetcheeks… I can fix that.”

Cassie registered just long enough that the knife he’d held against her had been her own, and with that, the last of her restraint and calm shattered.

That was the last thing of hers he’d ever turn against her.

“Give it your best shot, _demagolka!”_

“I always— _oomph!”_ Handsome Jack’s breath rushed from his lungs as Cassie bulldozed straight into him, armed with nothing but the vault and a closed fist.

They both landed hard on the metal flooring, dust kicking up around them from the impact. Cassie lashed out with the vault, catching Handsome Jack’s dagger— _her_ dagger—with a hard clang. The impact broke Jack’s grip, and the knife went skidding off. Cassie considered diving for it, but Jack’s hands were on her, one attempting to rip the vault out of her hands, the other—

Cassie reared back before his fingers could close around her neck or snag the collar of her undershirt. She struck out as hard and fast as she could, felt her knuckles split as she punched his jaw, felt the vault bludgeon him as it connected with his temple. _“Ni kyr'amur gar!”_ she half-screamed, half-snarled, the culmination of her hatred, rage, and pain pouring out as she aimed it at the _hut’uun_ responsible for all of it.

She wasn’t sure how it happened, how she lost control of the fight. She only felt her hand around the vault go numb, like something had pressed against a pressure point somewhere along her arm. The vault tumbled from her limp fingers, but before she could reclaim it, Handsome Jack backhanded her.

The front of her body hit the floor almost as hard as the impact on her left cheek had been. Black spots danced in her eyes, as if to say, _Well, that was foolish, wasn’t it?_

The vault rested nearby. Dazed, Cassie reached for it, registering it only as “weapon” and “something Handsome Jack wants.” Her fingers brushed against an edge, tilting it toward her.

Cassie felt her leg jerk, her body being dragged backward and the vault now a painful few inches too far away. She cried out and kicked back, but something drove into her ribs instead. She felt the sharp pain that always came when a bone cracked and shrieked.

“You really thought you could do it, didn’t you, kitten?”

Handsome Jack kicked her so she rolled onto her back. She caught the flash of his mismatched eyes, shining with something between inhuman fury and demonic glee, as he stood over her. His grin was wolfish and satisfied, despite the blood framing the sides of his face and along the whites of his teeth—or, perhaps, because of it. “Unfortunately for you, _ge'hutuun_ , your claws just aren’t sharp enough.”

Cassie didn’t have time to feel offense or revulsion for how he’d mispronounced the word. As fast as a basilisk, Handsome Jack dropped until he was straddling her, his weight pressed into her hips, pinning her in place. His smile turned eager, a manic light entering his eyes. “But don’t worry, doll, mine are.”

The Mandalorian did everything she could to get free: bucking him off, spitting in his face, attempting to break some part of his arms, but the second his hands closed around her throat and squeezed it shut, she knew it was over. She had never broken his grip before, and she knew she wouldn’t now. It didn’t matter how much emotion and will she had, how much she raked her nails down his forearms and hands, how she shifted her legs. Jack’s hands were an iron collar around her, and there was no key.

“You should have just come back to me,” Handsome Jack growled, piercing through the sound of her frantic pulse and her dimming world. “Instead of throwing your life away for some trash. You didn’t even know who he was, and even if you had… Even if you had, it shouldn’t have mattered. I’m the king around here! Your loyalty belongs to _me!”_

Handsome Jack leaned over her and his hips ground against her with the movement, the hardness of his erection no longer something he would allow her to ignore. His gaze caught hers the moment her eyes widened in realization.

It’s almost like he couldn’t help but say it. “All that family crap you Mandalorians spout is so fucking funny. And such bullshit.” He laughed, full of hilarity and derangement. She felt every inch of him moving against her, the vibrations of his laughter buzzing through her like hornets. “You didn’t know he was family, and you shot a hole straight through him! Even to me, that’s cold, sweetcheeks.”

A wheezing sound escaped Cassie before his hands pressed even harder, and Cassie understood. That breath had been her last. Some part of her was glad. Relieved, even. Her strength zapped from her limbs, she felt her hands slid off his skin one by one, dropping to the floor with a soft thud.

“Good girl. It’s almost over. You _do_ know you’re dying this time, right? No take backsies?”

She did, and she wished he would at least _shut up_ and let her die in peace. Let her see her _vod_ again, so she could tell Suriya, Anu, all of them that she was sorry. Cassie closed her eyes, not wanting to see Handsome Jack at the end.

A metallic clink resounded throughout the room. Above her, Handsome Jack tensed, his body completely still. When the clinking sound continued, Cassie cracked her eyes open.

Handsome Jack was no longer looking at her, his focus locked on something on the floor over her right shoulder. Abruptly, the clinking stopped. “Huh,” Handsome Jack said. “Well, shit.”

Cassie gasped for air, coughing as Handsome Jack removed his hands from her throat, rose, and stepped over her body like she wasn’t even there. Her eyes watered, and she let them spill over, not willing to examine what feelings caused them to appear: relief to be alive or… Still, she was grateful for the familiar expansion of her lungs.

She wiped her face clean as she sat up, one hand skimming her burning throat as she turned her body to observe Handsome Jack, who was standing there, examining the vault in his hand.

Handsome Jack turned it upside down, and he and Cassie both watched, Jack with a displeased set of his mouth and Cassie in utter shock, as nothing but sand spilled onto the floor.

The vault was empty. The thing she’d killed another Mandalorian for, the thing she’d risked her own life for, was empty.

Handsome Jack hurled it across the room, the metal clattering almost comically against the wall and rebounding against a steel crate before falling to rest at last.

“Well,” Handsome Jack began, “this is awkward.”

All Cassie could do was watch him from her position on the floor, frozen, as Handsome Jack tried to look like something approaching sheepish.

“Looks like we still need each other, cupcake.”

Cassie blinked. “You’re joking,” she said hoarsely. She felt the scorching reminder of life burn through her esophagus as wind found its way back through her nasal passages. She did her best to hold it together, but the pain almost caused tears. The coughs came anyway.

“Do I look like I’m fucking joking?” Handsome Jack gestured to himself, but his dregs of anger dried up as soon as they appeared. “I want my loot, and I want to know why my so-called informant is so laughably bad at his job.”

Cassie got to her feet shakily. Saving her voice, she tried for a whisper: “How do you know I didn’t take it?” Burned worse, but she somehow felt the vibration of air and her vocal chords less this way. She tried swallowing.

“Ha, cute! Very cute, sweetcheeks.” Handsome Jack sauntered toward her until his height towered. “You always get so defensive after one of our strangulation sessions. It’s endearing.”

 _"Sessions?”_ Cassie’s voice cracked with outrage. “You were _killing_ me!” What felt like lava scratching down her throat caused a few tears to form. She knew she should just _stop talking_ , but this motherfucker infuriated her.

“I was _trying_ to. Keyword. Just like you tried to kill me, kitten.” Handsome Jack took her chin in his fingers, his eyes boring into hers. “So I guess that means we’re even now.” His fingers squeezed. _“Right?”_

Handsome Jack was waiting for the right answer. Cassie found that she could give it because she had clarity again. Something about his hands around her neck had reminded her of what was actually important. She couldn’t die yet. Her clan, her people—Anu now added to the mix by name—wouldn’t allow her to stop. Killer of her own kind or no, she _couldn’t_ stop.

Maybe it was all a lie, but it was her reason, and it was good enough.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. Her tongue burned at having to show even that much respect to the _demagolka_ , but she made sure it was said with a healthy side of scorn. “We are.”

“Oh, good.” Handsome Jack patted her cheek and inspected the safehouse as she had just a few minutes earlier. “Guess it’s back to square one… Man, this place is a dump. Did you really live like this?”

Cassie crossed her arms, refusing to let his dig get to her. “Square one?”

He waved a careless hand. “I’ll handle the details, sweetcheeks. You just do what I tell you.” He settled on a crate, his legs spread wide in a dominant stance. Cassie noted the way he plopped himself on top of her _kama_ without so much as moving it. Perhaps he hadn’t even noticed the fabric there, because even though he was smiling, she felt his eyes cutting straight into her like razors. “When we get back to base, you and I are re-establishing some ground rules.”

Cassie’s heart skipped in her chest, and not from excitement. She wanted to protest, clarify, that he couldn’t mean Hyperion, not after what they had just been through. Jack looked to her with a tilted head and anticipated her question. For once she was thankful for his wit.

Handsome Jack’s grin widened, voice dripping with insinuation. “Oh, Hyperion isn’t where I’ll be coming, cupcake. Speaking of which, before we get to all that…” He directed a hand between his legs, to the cock straining in his pants. “Mind helping me with something _you_ caused?”

He tilted his head in curiosity and wary confusion as Cassie smiled at him. Her eyes swept the floor. “Sure. Where’s my knife?”

“Don’t joke,” he replied, a small bit of dread filling his voice.

 _She_ wasn’t the one who was joking.

Some several feet away sat the dagger Jack had taken from her in their previous brawl. The fight already felt like hours ago—so much had passed she was still processing. From where he sat, Handsome Jack eyed Cassie’s form with an amused grin, biting back the feeling of pain from his erection pressing against his pants. He audibly groaned as Cassie bent down to pick up the knife, matching her level of discomfort at her bruised and likely broken rib. The low growl she could barely muster was enough of a song of encouragement to his ears.

“You’re toying with me, I see.”

The Mandalorian turned to Handsome Jack and rolled her eyes, the hilt firmly in her hand. The blade was pointed to him in the same accusatory way she often felt towards him. She swallowed hard again, some feeling of normalcy returning to her voice, but she didn’t want to test it. She could still feel the tension in her throat where his large, strong hands had held her so firmly.

Cassie walked towards the Hyperion president slowly, blade still pointed to him. His elbows were rested on his knees, as he looked up to her with a dark stare. “What are you going to do with that? You going to kill me while I’m in such a state of duress?”

“Stand up,” she commanded flatly.

“Excuse me?”

“Up.”

Handsome Jack looked to where Cassie’s eyes were glued—not on him, not on his crotch—she was staring intently at the _kama_ beneath his thigh. He looked to her and back to the piece of clothing he was seated on.

“Ah, this important to you, huh, doll?” Cassie clenched her teeth. He grabbed the _kama_ and held it in his hands, feeling the fraying ends, the tears, examining the blood. “And whose blood is this?” His voice dropped several notes, but he still sounded entertained.

Cassie snatched the _kama_ from his hands so quickly he almost fell forward from his seat. He chuckled and stood up slowly, groaning only slightly.  

“That’s not that Twi’lek’s blood, was it?”

Cassie glared up at Jack who stood so, _so_ much taller than her. He casted a shadow that chilled their entire corner of the safehouse. “It’s not Anu’s blood.” Her words were as firm as she could make them, but she was wavering in confidence. She didn’t need to give him any more ammunition.

“Oh, so it’s a family _heirloom_ , huh, cupcake?” Handsome Jack asked. His lips formed a tight grin. “That explains why it looks so _filthy._ ” Cassie’s quick-draw reflex caught him off-guard. The tip of her dagger dug into the bottom of his chin. His jawline tightened, and she could see the muscles in his cheeks flex at the feeling of the sharp point. “Looks like I hit a nerve.”

“We’re not back at Hyperion yet,” Cassie replied. He hadn’t meant he was taking her to Elpis, he _couldn’t_ have. She wished she felt confident in that assertion.

Jack leaned into the blade enough to draw blood. He placed a hand over Cassie’s, holding the hilt. “If you’re going to kill me, just kill me, sweetcheeks. I don’t do foreplay.” Cassie hated how unaffected he always seemed to be. He took a step forward, pressing himself into her arm. “You must still be mad at me for holding your precious armor hostage. You Mandalorians are such a protective group. You’d think it was more of a cult.”

With his other hand, Handsome Jack gripped Cassie’s shoulder tightly and pushed her against the opposite wall. The hard stone sent a shockwave of excitement through her body. She could feel his cock press into her. “I’m in an accommodating mood for once,” he said. “So I’ll ask once more: Are you going to help me or not?”

Cassie felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “Can’t you take care of yourself?” she said, voice veering on shaky, but less from the pain of suffocation this time.

Handsome Jack leaned into her, eyes nearly cutting her in half, and moved his mouth to her ear. “Don’t be such a killjoy, cupcake.” The humid heat of his breath coated her ear. Jack brought his lips to her neck. Cassie arched her back in shock as his tongue and teeth caught on the side of her throat. His hand still braced hers against the knife, and he smoothly moved the blade to her throat to hold her still. “That’s a good girl,” he groaned.

Cassie was well and thoroughly trapped. Beaten and very nearly broken, but she had caught herself from falling over the precipice just in time. Handsome Jack still needed her, or at least thought he did. She would let him have this and remember every crime until she could pay him back tenfold for the pain and humiliation.

However, she had not anticipated just _how_ badly he needed her. Right _now._

He had not been joking.

Handsome Jack didn’t stop his ministrations at her neck. Her own dagger was turned against her yet again, the blade a wicked reminder that she wasn’t going anywhere until he wanted her to. Sliding the high collar of her undershirt down, he sank his teeth into the juncture between her neck and shoulder, his moan of pleasure an obscene thing against her skin. The action shocked her so completely—to say nothing of the odd jump her stomach gave at the sensation—that she didn’t register his free hand on her opposite wrist until it was too late.

With a move that was far too well-practiced, Handsome Jack forced that hand down the front of his pants, until her fingers had no choice but to brush against his cock.

“ _Fuck_ me, cupcake.” The words came out in a whoosh. He pulled his head back far enough to raise an eyebrow at her, impatient. “No, seriously, fuck me. Get to work.”

Cassie’s lips curled. Her own green eyes jumping from his own, blue to green to blue again, she thought about wrapping her hand around his dick and squeezing until he fell to his knees, until she could rip it clean off.

Instead, she felt cold, sharp steel against her throat that was still on fire from his hands and now his teeth, felt the needle-sharp pain in her side.

It wasn’t worth it. Not yet.

And what had she told herself? That she wouldn’t allow him to turn anything of hers on her ever again? Breaking her own promises would just have to be something she got used to until she could destroy him. By then, it wouldn’t matter.

Cassie lamented her decision to remove all her armor, including her gloves, more than ever before as she closed her bare hand around his cock and gave him exactly what he wanted. No gentle touches, no teasing or foreplay. Her hand moved in hard, firm strokes up and down his cock, again and again and again.

And again.

She felt herself scowling, thinking of the utter unfairness of the universe that Jack would not only be a rich, colossal dick but also boast one as well.

“Ah, _fuck!”_ Handsome Jack slammed his fist against the wall right beside her head, cutting off her thoughts and wiping the scowl from her face. She jumped at the sudden violence of it, but her rhythm never slowed. “If I’d known you were _this_ good,” he panted, voice breathless and rough, “I would’ve convinced you to do this sooner.”

Any rebuttal she could’ve forced past her lips was cut off as she caught a glimpse of Handsome Jack’s eyes. Somehow, he looked more wild and deranged than she’d ever seen him, gripped in the throes of lust rather than delusion. Cassie cried out weakly, Handsome Jack’s hand tangling in her hair and forcing her head back. She felt the knife leave her throat, heard the clatter of metal against metal as Jack tossed it aside before it was replaced with lips, teeth, and tongue.

He didn’t need that bit of coercion anymore, not when his hot mouth was doing it for him, reminding Cassie with every scrap of his teeth that she belonged to him. Claiming her for Hyperion with every hard suck against her skin. His breath puffed against her with his sharp exhales and feral groans, sending chills to spread down her entire body.

But not of pleasure. Never of pleasure.

Not once did he claim her mouth with the same dominance, though at one point as he tilted his head back, observing her through heavy-lidded eyes, she thought she could see him considering it. Weighing the benefits with the potential fallouts in his head. Cassie couldn’t stop how wide her eyes became, the fear in them evident, and that was the mistake that almost sealed the deal.

But then Handsome Jack doubled over her, grunting a few more choice words against her neck as she felt him come at last, her hand and his cock growing slick with the results. Cassie wished she could be anywhere but here now, wished her position with Anu had been reversed as revulsion bubbled in her stomach like slime in a marsh. Both their bodies stilled, the answering silence suddenly judgmental and oppressive.

Handsome Jack laughed, the sound more carefree than it had any right to be. “See what I mean, sweetcheeks?” He had the audacity to wink as he hovered over her. “Employee of the Month material.”

She jerked her hand free of him in an instant and shoved him back. _“Ni’duraa!”_

“Yeah, right. You loved it.” He smirked and framed his groin with his hands. “After all, there’s so much of me to love.”

As soon as Cassie donned her _beskar’gam_ , she returned with Handsome Jack to Hyperion, keeping as much distance between herself and the _demagalka_ in the transport as she could, feeling used and helpless. When they arrived, Handsome Jack did not exit with her. The only reason she stuck around to question him was because she wanted to know as much as possible about what was in store for her next.

“You were serious,” she rasped, “about the moon base.”

“I haven’t forgotten about those ground rules, either,” Handsome Jack assured her with a smile that instantly sent warning bells ringing in her head. “But the place isn’t ready for you yet. You know how I _hate_ surprises.”

Cassie did not dignify that with a response. Sensing her mood, Jack pointed at his neck. “And I’d get that looked at, if I were you. Can’t have you crying workers’ comp at me like a little bitch.”

It was obviously bait. Cassie was not proud of herself. “At least I could last longer in the sack than you, _laandur_.”

Handsome Jack’s brow quirked. “Is that so? I’ll remember that, cupcake.” The door of the transport closed behind him, mercifully cutting off his eye contact from hers.

Over the next several days, Cassie treated her own wounds, keeping her distance from everyone. She exited her quarters only as needed, her mind occupied with plans of revenge and thoughts of dread.

Handsome Jack’s moonbase would be whole new territory. Not to mention, the loot he desperately wanted was still out there, and she would be sent after it no matter what. That wasn’t what occupied her thoughts the most, however.

It was the fact that no matter how many times she scrubbed her hands, she couldn’t get the feel of him off of her, the memory still too sharp, too awful. She would walk past a vent spewing hot air in the hallway, and she could swear it was him breathing across her neck. As her throat healed, the skin itched at odd times, like his teeth were leaving phantom scrapes across it.

Then, there was that jump in her stomach, a reaction she didn’t understand and feared putting a name to. It didn’t happen every time she thought about Handsome Jack—anger simmered too strongly in her gut for that. But occasionally, when she woke up in the middle of the night to pitch darkness, her first thoughts were of her hair being tugged, of the appreciative moans dancing over her skin, of how rough yet fulfilling a touch could be, and the same jump in her stomach would come, as sure as the dawn.

Desire had looked good on Handsome Jack. That was all it was. A vain reaction to a vain man.

Less than a man. A _demagolka._ A _ge’hutuun_ . Not just that, but a _hut’uun_.  

That settling the matter, Cassie continued with her routine, waiting for the next mission.

It came a few days later when her voice had finally repaired itself to her normal range. She entered her room after putting herself through a training session to keep her skills sharp. Cassie wouldn’t have even noticed something was different about her room if she hadn’t tripped right over the box as she crossed the threshold.

What now? Cassie ripped the tape off and pulled the flaps of the box open. She stared at what was nestled on a cushion inside. With a swift snatch of her hand, Cassie launched the crystal plaque reading “Hyperion Employee of the Month” into the wall, the satisfaction as it burst into hundreds of pieces overwhelming.

Those feelings vanished as she picked up the note that had been hiding under it:

_Ready for round two, sweetcheeks? - HJ_

Accompanying the note was a new set of IDs with her credentials along with a rarely-seen access card.

Handsome Jack was summoning her to his base, and she had no choice but to answer.


End file.
